The crowds, the shadow, the shouting and the crows, the lights and a gunshot.
‘I don’t know,’ I murmur.
While Mum speaks to the doctor, I open the notes app on my phone and type up everything I remember about the vision as well as one question.
Who is Brigid?
And then the only possible answer.
The girl in the visions.
Dr Atwal says I’m OK but I have low iron, which might explain the fainting (if only). I get changed into some dry clothes Aunt Sheila brought from the house – a tracksuit of Cormac’s. As Mum and I leave A & E, my gaze lingers on a policeman standing beside two men in their forties with shaved heads, one pressing a blood-soaked T-shirt to his forehead. The other glares at me and I look away.
Nanny Bet is waiting for us in the intensive-care waiting area. I avoid her eye. We sit in numbed silence until Sheila arrives with bags of crisps and a coffee for Nanny Bet.
Sheila kisses the top of my head and sits beside me. ‘You need to eat something, love.’ I set the crisps beside the untouched chicken sandwich she brought me earlier. I’ve not spoken to anyone but Mum and a police officer since we got here. I saidthat I was out walking and thought I spotted Dad and followed him, but then can’t remember what happened. I think they believed me, but they’ve asked to speak to Mum alone.
We’ve had no news about Dad.
Could I have done anything differently? Why was he there?
Nanny Bet sips her coffee. I can’t look at her, but I know her eyes are on me.
The green car on that street where I found Dad – it was in that photo I took outside her house. The boring photo I thought was nothing at all was showing me what I needed to know this whole time.
Dad was in Belfast. Dad was at her house. She knew where he was.
Another fucking lie.
‘I’m going for a walk.’ I stand up.
‘Can I join you?’ Nanny Bet asks.
‘No.’ I don’t look back as I leave the room.
I welcome the cool night air as I step through the exit. The rain has stopped so I sit on a bench by the car park, away from the woman in a dressing gown who’s choking back tears as she smokes a cigarette.
My phone buzzes when I turn it on. There are a few messages.
Cormac: Ah cuz, I’m sorry. Need anything?
Paul: Shit, C told me what happened. U ok?
Meg: Call me
Nothing from Ben. But why would there be? Should I tell him?
He doesn’t care.
I can’t think of what to say to anyone right now. I set the phone down on the bench, pull up my legs and hug them. I push my fists into my eyes to block out the light, and the memory of the riot plays out in my mind. Dad in the middle of it, reaching out, being pulled into the shadow.
The Morrigan.
It must have been. What has she done to him?
I slap my head.
I squeeze my hands over my ears. I want this to be over. It’s too much to deal with.
